


My Middle Name Is Trouble

by TwinEnigma



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Clones, Community: yj_anon_meme, Gen, Identity Issues, Prompt Fill, Young Justice Anon Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinEnigma/pseuds/TwinEnigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman has been ambushed by a traitor and is being held prisoner in a medical facility.  He's not about to sit around and wait to be freed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble With A Capital T

                Actually, it's Anthony.

                And I wouldn't quite be contemplating that if it weren't for the fact that I am currently breaking out of a medical facility - location to be determined later - after being attacked by someone I _thought_ I could trust and I need to make sure my faculties are intact, since they're all I have left. My utility belt and Batsuit are nowhere to be found, it's freezing in here, and I'm completely naked.

                These are definitely not ideal conditions.

                Right, priority one: get out of here.

                Strike that.

                Priority one: find pants, _then_ get out of here.

                And, thankfully, here comes contestant number 1. Wait for it, wait for it... _there_! The right pressure point and he's down for the count. I quickly strip him of everything useful - pants, shoes, jacket, and keycards - and pull it on, even though it's a bit small for me. I haven't got much time before they notice he's missing and that I'm gone. I have to get clear of here before that happens and get in contact with the League _immediately_. They're in terrible danger: there's a traitor!

                I walk, not too fast but brisk, and pretend to be reading a clipboard. The cameras pass over me, ignoring me, and suddenly, _all hell breaks loose_ as the door ahead of me explodes. The automatic sprinklers immediately come on and I run towards the blast. Something small, dark and nimble brushes past me, and I turn barely in time to catch the roundhouse coming at my head. My attacker then makes a move, one from my book, one I've only taught one other person.

                "Robin?" I hiss, blinking water from my eyes.

                The smoke clears a little more and I can see him - he's wearing a white suit, similar to the one they found Superboy in, and he looks a bit lost.

                "What are you doing here?" he asks. "Are you here to res-"

                "I was ambushed - but we haven't got time for that. We've got to go, _now_ ," I explain, holding out my hand. He takes it instinctively, and we start running. The time for subtlety is over. Now we just focus on getting the hell out of here.

                Thankfully, there's only minimal opposition. It seems like something else is keeping them busy: maybe the explosion caused more damage than I can see? Briefly, I wonder _what_ Robin blew up.

                We turn the last corner and sprint straight for the elevator doors.

                They open.

                And there I am. Or, rather, there _we_ are.

                "Oh, this is not asterous, not asterous at _all_ ,” the Robin on the elevator says, looking slightly ill.

                I can't help but wonder if the other me is also thinking that's one hell of an understatement.


	2. Double, Double Toil and Trouble

                We’re sitting in the Mount Justice Medical Bay now, each getting a careful examination after our flight back from the lab (as it turns out, it was in Turkey). The League’s core members lurk in the background with my double, wary and watchful. They’re right to be cautious and if they were foolish enough not to be, I’d seriously have to back up my – or was it _his_ – threat to leave them to their own devices. As for the members of Young Justice, only M’gann is visibly present, but I know Robin is probably in the room or just outside it. He’s bothered by us, I know that, but I don’t think he can keep away until he knows _why_ we were made _._

                Oh, we can guess _when_ we were made _._ That much is simple. Robin – er, clone… no, _my_ Robin was likely created following Cadmus’s recovery from Superboy’s breakout. As for me, it turns out that the last day I remember, New Year’s Eve, was almost a month ago and the core members of the League had disappeared for sixteen hours that day, sixteen hours which, even now, remained unaccounted for.

                Well, maybe _not_ so unaccounted for now.

                Except now that I think about it, there’s something about this situation that just isn’t sitting right with me. Why would they clone me – _him_ and not make the switch? Were they interrupted?

                “All triggers removed,” J’onn announces solemnly, interrupting my thoughts as he removes his hands from my Robin’s head.

                He nods, slowly sliding off the exam table, and accepts M’gann’s comfort even as he fiddles with the dark sunglasses they’d given him to protect his identity. Myself, I’m not so lucky. The domino mask I’m wearing is one of Icon’s. It’s not a great fit, but it was all they could find on short notice.

                I still feel utterly naked.                                       

                “It’s your turn,” J’onn says.

                I don’t like the thought of him rooting around in my head, but I nod my assent anyway. Eliminating any hidden threats the both of us present to ourselves and the League is our primary priority.

                The second his hands touch my head, my mind goes blank. When I next come to, J’onn is looking at me in bewilderment.

                “There are no triggers,” J’onn states. “I do not believe there ever were.”

                Oh.

                “Why would they make a clone and not program it?” M’gann asks.

                But I already know.

                And so does my double.

                I’m on my feet and after him even as he turns and runs out of the room, the mantra _I’m real_ beating out with my every footfall. My clone – that’s right, he’s my clone, he’s _my_ clone, _I’m real, I’m real -_ he’s fast, but the Batsuit is weighing him down and I’m able to keep up. I know where he’s going, too – it’s the same place I’d go: _home._

                That is, unless being discovered has not triggered his programming and he’s now headed to the place he was created – or rather, where I was _recovered._

                Fuck.

                I know who made him.

                “Xu’ffasch!” I shout.

                No response.

                “Ibn al Ghul!”

                He stops immediately and it’s so sudden I almost fall ass over elbow trying not to slam into him. Everyone else, including both Robins, also come to a stop. His – my – the original Robin looks ashen, betrayed.

                “He was…” he manages, “You.”

                J’onn glides closer, past me, and examines my double. “The trance is deep, but I can remove it.”

                I nod my assent. It’s what he – I – _we_ would want.

                “I am curious, though,” J’onn says, turning his blank red eyes on me. “How did you know what the trigger was?”

                I could tell him about my dealings with Ra’s.

                I could tell him what Ra’s sees in me, the man he wants to mold me into.

                But I don’t. They’ll figure it out soon enough, anyway. Besides, we have bigger things to worry about now.

                I reach out, disengage the safeties on the Batsuit cowl, and remove it from my clone. “J’onn, when you’re done, take M’gann and check the entire League for triggers.”

                “What about you?” Wonder Woman asks.

                I look at the cowl in my hands. “I’m going back to that lab.”

                I don’t have to be a mind reader to know what’s on everyone’s minds: it’s obvious from the looks of discomfort and violation.

                I might not be the only one who never really came back on New Year’s.

 


End file.
